


Let You In

by Inell



Series: Teeny Fic Challenge [36]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Deputy Stiles Stilinski, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Grad Student Lydia, Jackson Doing Manual Labor, M/M, Medical Resident Jackson, Multi, Polyamory, Romance, Talk About Role Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 09:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10214339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: Jackson knows he’s finally found the place where he belongs: between Stiles and Lydia





	

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: Stiles/Jackson/Lydia  
> Hope you enjoy it, Nonnie! Teeny Fic #36
> 
> Somehow ever since I've been around you  
> Can't go back to being on my own  
> Can't help feeling, darlin', since I've found you  
> That I've found my home, that I'm finally home  
> If You Asked Me To by Celine Dion

 

“Why are you in the garage?” Lydia says the last word like it’s personally offending her.

“I’m working,” Jackson points out, unable to keep the ‘duh’ out of his tone. He hears the click clack of her high heels on the cement and rolls his head back, seeing her feet by the end of the vehicle. “What are _you_ doing out here?”

“I was looking for you, obviously.” Lydia taps her foot. “Are you going to get out from under the Jeep or am I going to be forced to continue speaking to you this way?”

“I don’t know. Why were you looking for me?” Jackson teases her before rolling out from under Stiles’ bucket of bolts. He wouldn’t even lower himself to calling it a Jeep anymore because it’s only held together with duct tape and some type of unknown magic at this point. He manages to roll out so his head goes between her legs, and he waggles his eyebrows when she stares down at him.

“No more bonding nights alone with Stiles,” she mutters, rolling her eyes even as her lips curve into an indulgent smile. “He’s rubbing off on you.”

“Yeah, he is,” Jackson says smoothly, his leer indicating exactly how Stiles is rubbing him.

Lydia snorts before she can stop herself, and Jackson sits up slowly, deliberately letting his face brush against her calf and knee. “Don’t get me greasy, Jackson,” she warns, but she doesn’t move away, so she must like what she sees.

“What? You don’t find me attractive just because I’m slightly dirty?” Jackson huffs. “We both know you’re lying. You and Stiles _always_ get off on me doing physical labor. My boyfriend and girlfriend are a bunch of depraved perverts.” He sniffs haughtily and reaches up to drag a greasy finger down the inside of her thigh.

“Damn it, Jackson. Don’t start something we can’t finish right now,” Lydia mutters, swatting his hand away from her. “What’s got into you today?”

“Well, Stiles did this morning, as I’m sure you remember,” Jackson says, blowing her a kiss when she gives him that ‘I’m annoyed but you’re still attractive so I’m not pissed off yet’ look that Stiles is usually the recipient of. Maybe she’s right, and Stiles _is_ rubbing off on his personality. The idea is slightly horrifying because Jackson is way more suave and charming than Stiles will ever be.

“Why did you decide to indulge in your inner mechanic today?” Lydia smooths down her skirt before walking to the door of the garage, obviously expecting him to follow her.

“I felt like a bit of role play.” Jackson stands up and wipes his greasy hands on the shorts he’s wearing. They’re a pair of McCall’s that he left over when visiting Stiles a few weeks ago, so Jackson sees no harm in using them as rags. He certainly isn’t going to risk any of his own clothing when working under a car.

“You’d need coveralls with your name stitched over the breast in order to be fully successful in a role play scenario,” Lydia points out. “A pair of tight shorts doesn’t quite say ‘hot mechanic at work’. More ‘frat boy playing with cars’.”

“Whatever.” Jackson walks up behind her and kisses her neck. “If you insist on honesty, I was checking the brakes because Stiles was talking about them squealing on his way home last night.”

“So you let him drive the Maserati?” Lydia is cooing, and Jackson makes a face at her. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone that you’re really a sweetheart underneath that asshole exterior.”

“You’d better not,” he grumbles. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold, after all. Besides, he’d mentioned having Jordan check it out for him, and I’m not letting that guy anywhere near Stiles.”

“Jealousy is a good look on you,” Lydia teases, turning to face him. “However, Jordan is harmless. He and I didn’t work out, and he’s just friends with Stiles. You need to be more concerned about Theo than Jordan anyway. He’s the one who’s semi-obsessed with our boy. I didn’t like him when he first came back, and I don’t like him now, regardless of Scott and Liam’s do gooder faith in him.”

“Jealousy’s a good look on you, too, babe,” Jackson says, leaning in to kiss her. “Where _is_ Stiles, by the way? I expected him back at four.”

“Jackson, you gave him the keys to the Maserati. Do you really think he’s mature enough to resist taking it out to the preserve and driving like he’s on the Autobahn?” Lydia laughs softly. “You’ll be lucky if he gets home by seven.”

“If he scratches my car, you’ve got to punish him.” He pouts. “My attempts at punishing him never seem to work out.”

“That’s because he manages to twist you up until you’re the one begging to be punished.” Lydia ruffles his hair. “It’s adorable the way you attempt to boss him around, but we both know you prefer it when he’s telling you what to do. But, yes, if he does anything to your car, I promise I’ll make him pay in all the best ways. I’ll even let you watch.”

“Maybe I’ll call him and ensure he comes on home,” he says, pulling his phone out of the pocket of the shorts he’s wearing. “How do I look?”

“Like a sweaty, greasy, hot wet dream?” Lydia flutters her eyelashes at him when he preens. “Tell him if he makes it home in twenty minutes, he and I can play rich couple seducing the hot mechanic changing our oil.”

“I thought my shorts weren’t the appropriate costume for role play?” Jackson smirks at her, deliberately hooking his thumb into the waistband of the shorts and tugging it lower, letting her see his lack of underwear.

She’s right that he’s in a mood today, but he’s earned it because he’s been in a rotation with his ED residency that’s barely left him time to sleep, much less get frisky with his lovers. He’s now been gifted with three days off in a row, no on call or anything, and he’s hoping to make up for lost time before another stretch of endless hours at the hospital. Lydia and Stiles keep supporting him and telling him it’s all going to be worth it, but he misses being able to be with them as much as he used to, before his residency started and Dr. Kaplan basically took over his life.

“I’ll find something more appropriate,” Lydia decides, reaching out to snag the hem of his shorts. “Go ahead and text Stiles, get his ass back home, and then we’ll play whatever game you’ve got in mind. You deserve a reward for making it through the last month without going off on Dr. Jenkins anyway.”

“Yeah, I do,” he agrees, leaning in to her touch. “Trevor is an ass who thinks he knows everything, and he almost killed that kid because of his cocky arrogance.”

“But you helped Dr. Kaplan save the kid, so it worked out,” she reminds him, kissing his jaw. She pushes his shorts down past his hips, letting them fall around his ankles. “There. That’s better. Now you’re ready for a close up to send to Stiles.”

“If he crashes the car because I send him a dick pick, _you’ll_ be the one getting punished.” Jackson aims his phone and clicks the button, taking a good picture that includes Lydia’s hand and a streak of grease. He types a few words then hits send. “I told him he’s got twenty minutes or we start without him.”

“He’ll be here in ten,” Lydia says confidently. “He’s still in uniform, so he’ll speed if necessary. That gives us time to find you something to wear that fits the hot mechanic aesthetic we’re aiming for. I’m thinking that pair of jeans you keep trying to throw out because they’re too tight, and a white undershirt. Sleeveless, of course. We’ll get you properly greased up before he gets home, and then you can wait for us in the garage.”

Before Jackson can answer, his phone buzzes. He looks at the message from Stiles, which is a bit of random letters, and then a quick ‘on the way’ that has him smiling smugly. “I don’t know if we’ll even have ten minutes,” he says, laughing as he puts his phone down. “Let’s get ready for our boy. I’m in the mood to play tonight.”


End file.
